Better Than Revenge
by skittyninja
Summary: After dropping Harry off for school, the Dursleys find that Dudley has been kidnapped! What happens if Vernon and Petunia can't find him in time? Will Petunia embrace magic to save her son? Can the Dursleys make it in the Wizarding World? Full summary inside.
1. A Noteworthy Event

**Full summary: **After dropping Harry off at King's Cross for his 5th year at Hogwarts, the Dursleys return home to find thatDudley has been kidnapped by an unknown witch or wizard. The notes start arriving, penned in blood red ink, giving painful clues as to what will happen ifVernon and Petunia can't find their son in time. Will Petunia embrace her magic to save the one she loves most? Can the Dursleys make it in the Wizarding World?

**A/N: **This idea has been bugging me for awhile now, and I just knew I had to do it. This will be my first chaptered fic on this account. To be honest, this idea is so obvious that I'm almost certain it's been done before; I'm just scared to look and see if there are others like this. If there are, I've never seen them and probably won't read one until AFTER this is complete.

**Disclaimer:** The Harry Potter Series is not mine. But a certain, nameless someone is...

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><p>The letter that almost ruined the lives of Petunia and Vernon Dursley arrived on a sweltering yet cheery-looking September afternoon. The couple had just returned from dropping off their good-for-nothing nephew at King's Cross to go to his freak school; they had left their darling 15 year old son at home because he complained about having to miss one of his favourite television programs.<p>

"It's Monday," he grumbled to his mother, starting up with some fake tears. "The Great Humberto's on today and I can't miss it again! You _always _make me do stuff for that- that freak!"

Several minutes of whining and 2 temper tantrums later, Dudley was happily seated in front of his kitchen television (he hated that long walk between the fridge and the telly in the living room!) and eating a fifth bowl of cereal. He waved absent-mindedly with his free hand as his parents and cousin left.

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><p>It was an uneventful trip, especially without Dudley around to tease Harry for everyone else's amusement. Because of their grim task of dealing with Potter and his freakishness, tempers were short and tensions were high – the heat did nothing to help. The day got hotter as it went on, and the air conditioner in the car wasn't quite doing the job after a few hours. Needless to say, Vernon and Petunia were glad to get home to their nice, cool air, comfortable chairs, and dear sweet son.<p>

As they pulled into the drive, Petunia was happily talking about Mrs. Next-Door-Neighbour's problems with her sister, and Vernon was half-listening, half-thinking that he and his family would have a nice day at the pool to beat the heat. He turned the car off and began sweating even more profusely. They both hurried to get inside.

"Duddy, Mummy is home, sweetie!" Petunia yelled in a sing-songy manner. She stopped in the hall to breathe in the nice, icy air, and then moved as her husband came in behind her.

"Dudley?" Vernon called genially, stress of his nephew long forgotten as he cooled down. "Come on, son, and let's get ready for some fun now that we're rid of that scrawny miscreant!"

Both paused as they waited for the loud, thundering footsteps of their son. They didn't come. The house was almost completely silent, save for the sounds of a commercial drifting to the door from on of the televisions.

Petunia suddenly felt uneasy, though she didn't quite know why. She tensed, slowed her breathing, trying to be quiet and alert for any sound of movement in the house. She jumped when Vernon unexpectedly chuckled loudly.

"Must be watching television," he said cheerily. "Probably didn't hear us yet!"

Petunia shot him a grateful smile for his idea, and tried to relax as he took her hand and led her to the kitchen, half-dancing and looking at her the way he had when they first began dating. What with Harry around and Vernon being stressed from work, Petunia hadn't seen that look in a long while. She flushed in excitement. Perhaps Dudley could go swimming alone, and she and Vernon could stay home and–

She ran into him as he stopped unexpectedly in the kitchen doorway; she nearly knocked him over, despite the fact that he was nearly 5 times her size. He didn't seem to notice the bump, or that his wife was bounced off of him and nearly knocked to the floor. He simply stumbled a little, blinking frantically as in took in the scene before him.

The stool Dudley had been sitting on was knocked over and broken clean in half. The TV was cracked badly, but still working – it appeared that The Great Humberto Marathon was on…and that Dudley was nowhere near the show. The remote appeared to be missing. Many of Petunia's favourite fancy, exceptionally fragile dishes had been pulled out of the cabinets and were all over the floor…and yet none were broken or even chipped. It was almost as if someone had taken the time to gently set them down.

'_Or they were destroyed and then someone repaired them with magi-'_ Petunia clapped a hand over her mouth hard enough to make her lip bleed. She didn't notice the pain or metallic taste because she was too upset at the thought that had quickly entered her mind. She had come so close to saying it, out loud…but no. That would make it seem _real_, make it almost…make sense. She couldn't have that.

"P-…Pet…" Vernon couldn't even form a coherent word. He was staring at the wreckage, at the TV and stool and dishes, madly wondering why someone had had a picnic on the kitchen floor and where the food had gone.

Petunia's feeling of unease returned tenfold, and her heart was screaming something that her mind couldn't decode; decoding this would be a bad thing, and she knew it. Decoding it would mean the unthinkable. And yet, she couldn't ignore it much longer, not when it involved her one and only, her love, her precious little…

"Dudley," she croaked out as if it pained her. "Vernon…where's Dudley?"

The ensuing search took about an hour.

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><p>Even with many years of their nephew's lot and freakishness, nothing could have prepared the Dursleys for strangeness of the letter awaiting them on the kitchen counter, propped up on Dudley's half-empty cereal bowl. It was very out-of-place and noticeable in Petunia's glistening white kitchen – it sat there, in an off-white and brownish envelope that looked somehow…dirty. It was addressed in bright red ink that, although it turned out to be quite dry, looked fresh and shiny.<p>

'_Just try not to think about how much it looks like fresh blood,' _Vernon's mind whispered treacherously. _'And try not to wonder whose blood it is…'_

Vernon had to stifle a whimper; he needed to stay strong for his wife, who was hyperventilating in the corner of the room as she brewed tea. _'Besides, it isn't blood, can't be blood, because after all this time, it hasn't changed colour – no…Focus on Petunia._' She hadn't spoken a full sentence in 20 minutes – not since they found the letter.

"_How…how did we miss _this _the first time around?" Vernon had said as they ended their search for Dudley, ending up back in the kitchen. "It's dreadful and unseemly and so…so BRIGHT!"_

_Petunia swayed on her feet unsteadily and he had to catch her and lead her to a chair as she whispered to him,_

"_I looked over _everything, _Vernon. I would have seen that…that thing…before. I would have seen it before I saw the destroyed room. We didn't see it…because it wasn't there the first time…"_

Such a normal thing, it was. So normal and plain that it seemed almost absurd that it could be ruining a day like this. Why fear a _letter, _after all? Letters are just letters, nothing scary about that. But all the same, they hadn't been able to touch it since they found it, much less _open _it. It was almost as if the Dursleys were hoping it would vanish if they didn't acknowledge it; that if neither of them came into physical contact with it, it wouldn't be real.

Yet here it was, addressed plainly so there could be no mistake:

_Mr. and Mrs. Dursley_

_Kitchen _

_4 Privet Drive_

_Little Whinging_

_Surrey _

Although it hadn't been moved, both of them had read the address on it so many times that they had it memorized. Something about it seemed uncomfortably familiar. Petunia and Vernon glanced at it again, at the same time, and then shared a look of shock and dawning realization, going pale at the same time.

"Vernon," Petunia said hesitantly, "you don't suppose –"

"NONSENSE!" Vernon practically screamed.

They both started and looked surprised at his volume; he took a deep breath before starting over.

"Nonsense… It…I admit that it _does_ look like...the others…from how it's addressed. But, the writing isn't the same…" he trailed off, muttering to himself.

Indeed, the manner in which the letter was addressed was much like that of their nephew's letters from the school. But the handwriting was not the usual curly, loopy writing they had come to expect from the headmaster. Nor was it the strict and uptight style as the woman with the bun. This writing was more direct, cold, and somehow empty looking.

Petunia handed Vernon his cup of tea and sat down next to him, not even bothering to clear away the remains of Dudley's breakfast. Her normally spotless kitchen was still in ruins; her precious dishes had simply been moved to the counter. She didn't have the heart to put them away when her only son was missing.

She took a deep, steadying breath. "Vernon…they have Dudley…whoever 'they' are…We need to read it. He's already gone…how much worse could it be? Not knowing isn't an option anymore."

Vernon nodded in numb agreement, thinking that whatever it was, they would be able to handle it. Not much could be worse than having his boy kidnapped, after all.

How very wrong he was.

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><p>'<em>My dearest Dursleys,' <em>the letter read.

'_You don't know me…but I know you. I know you both very well. As time passes, I'm sure we'll get to be very close friends…_

_For years, you have mistreated and abused your nephew for being special and different. For more years than that, you have shunned your magical roots. You abhor anything truly unique and amazing, and instead worship the mediocre and plain. I've known this for many years, and I can no longer watch from afar._

_I want to play a game of sorts, Dursleys... Let's call it a mix of Hide and Seek and Keep Away. I'll hide your offspring, and try to keep away from you. Meanwhile, you can try to find us…before it's too late._

_Right now, you are feeling helpless, lost, and panicked. Your precious son is missing, and you don't even know if he's alive, dead, or tortured to insanity. Let me set your minds somewhat at ease. Your worthless child is alive and sane…for now. _

_Ah, my dear Petunia… It's your time to shine. Vernon, of course, won't be of much use…magically. But physically, he could come in handy. Feel free to bring him along. Lily Evans wasn't the only one with special talents, Petunia. Can you embrace what you've rejected for over 30 years in order to save your child? _

_Some would call this iron; I call it comedy. Make your choice – you have until June 15__th__, only a few weeks before your nephew gets home. But, I suggest you find your son before then…Because every month, his condition will get worse._

_If I know you at all (and I certainly do!) then you're most likely thinking about calling the police, or maybe even contacting Aurors, if you're scared enough. Don't bother. Muggles (other than yourselves) won't even be able to see the writing on my letters to you. As for witches and wizards, well…they'd just see a letter from your nephew…written about all of the things you've done to him. You can't really track me from a jail cell, now, can you?_

_No fear, Dursleys; you'll hear from me again soon._

_I wish you the best.'_

There was no signature at the bottom, just a small picture, crudely drawn, that neither Petunia nor Vernon could make heads or tails of.

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><p><strong>AN: **And there you have the first chapter of what I (for now) call "Better Than Revenge". Better titles are welcome, and I'd love to have some help finding a good unisex name for the kidnapper (meaning it could be a guy or girl name, if you didn't know). All suggestions and reviews are welcome!

Thanks for reading, everyone! =D

~skittyninja


	2. A Call to Action

**A/N: Finally! I've been wanting to continue this for ages now, but told myself I'd get going on 'Only Human', my Adventure Time fanfiction, first. For those interested in it, give it a look! I'm up to the third chapter now. I have to say, I think this story will be updated faster than that one will; I'm much more comfortable with my friends in the Harry Potter series. Though, to be fair, none of them are in this; I don't count the Dursleys as friends.**

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><p>In the two days since Petunia and Vernon Dursley had come home to find that their son, Dudley, had been abducted from his home at 4 Privet Drive in Little Whinging, not much had happened. To be precise, in the one day, six hours, and forty-two minutes since Dudley Dursley had been abducted from his home at 4 Privet Drive in Little Whinging, not much had happened. To be precisely precise, all that had happened was a lot of arguing and crying, as well as a little bit of Petunia and Vernon being sick to their stomachs. The parents of said abducted boy had spent quite a while in shock, then arguing amongst themselves. Petunia was adamant that they contact the muggle police, despite the warning in the letter that should they do so, Dudley would be punished by the mysterious attacker. Vernon, however, felt that there was a lot to be said for contacting the 'auroras', as he called them. Surely, since it was a freak like Potter that had caused this, it should be a team of freaks like Potter that dealt with it.<p>

Petunia vehemently disagreed with Vernon and, after some thought, dropped her own idea as well. The fight that followed was loud, tearful, and confusing; Petunia at one point punched Vernon. In the end, however, they managed to agree that their situation could not be solved by contacting law enforcement. There was simply too big a risk.

"I don't know them well at all, Vernon," Petunia said, sobbing, "But I know enough to be able to tell when someone will follow through on a threat!" Surprisingly, neither she nor her husband gave any thought to the idea that those of magic blood would see the attackers note as a letter from their no-good nephew about the abuse he had suffered – they were past thinking of themselves.

"Bloody psycho, off on a power trip," Vernon muttered as he made another pot of tea in an attempt to calm down. Both had entirely stopped drinking it, and several pots sat around the once spotless kitchen in mismatched containers, going cold and sour. "Can't believe someone had the nerve to target Dudders. He ought to have made a right mess of them!"

"Oh, Vernon, you don't really know what those people are like! We've lived with that boy for years, but he's really been mild! Hasn't hurt us at all, minus blowing up Marge! Really, I'd take him over my blasted sister and her slimy friend any day… You've never actually fought with one, dear. They make you do things, and nothing you do to fight them can get close enough!" Petunia ended with a rather spectacular sob.

"Still, Dudders knew where my rifle was, and you know damn well he knows how to use it!" Vernon replied, rapidly turning red. It seemed he was once again in the denial stage and trying to play the situation down, even seem disappointed in his son for losing the fight. It was at this point that Petunia raised her fist as if to punch him again.

"Vernon, I don't want to hear it! There's just no way he could have known… it's all our fault!"

"Our fault?"

"We l-left him h- here!" She cried. "Left him here alone, and for what? To help that nasty little freak get to his disgusting school!"

Vernon paled dramatically with realization and his beady little eyes nearly popped out of his soft, doughy face.

"By God, Petunia, it must have been the boy!"

"What on Earth-"

"No, think about it! Every time something creepy has happened, it's been the boy's doing! The hair, the sweater, the wig, the time on the roof of his school! THAT BLOODY SERPENT AT THE ZOO! All he had to do was a little something as we left-"

"He didn't have his…his thingy..out."

"Okay, later, then. After we left him, but before his train, he must have taken it out and done some-"

"For God's sake, Vernon, he's only fifteen! They don't teach them that sort of thing as fifth years! The ruddy boy hasn't even taken his O.W.L.s yet!"

A shocked silence fell over the two of them, just as it had the night the dementors attacked and Petunia unwittingly brought up the wizard prison, Azkaban. Then, several things happened in quick succession; Petunia flushed, ashamed, and opened her mouth to make excuses as she always did when _that_ subject came up, Vernon sputtered loudly and managed to choke on the first sip of (sour) tea he'd taken in hours, and there was a loud blast from the living room. The two unwitting muggles rushed into their favorite room only to be impeded by a large cloud of green smoke that was issuing from the couch.

"Bloody hell!" Vernon exclaimed between bouts of uncontrollable coughing.

"Vernon," Petunia coughed out, "the…the windows! Open…open the windows!"

Vernon rushed blindly into the mass of oddly colored smoke, only to trip over the coffee table, nearly fall, and bang his shin on the edge of the wastebasket. He cursed violently in between coughing and tearing up. Finally, he managed to crawl to the windows and open them, unaware of how much he currently resembled a pregnant rhinoceros caught in the mud.

"Bloody…lousy…smoke… this will take forever..to clear out!" he grumbled as he pulled back the curtains to ensure better airflow.

"Vernon?"

"…rug…not where I put it…bloody…" he grumbled, clearer now

"Vernon…"

"…Last damn time I have a ruddy wastebasket in my-"

"VERNON!"

"What?!" He turned around, eyes watering, prepared to glare at his wife through the thick green smog in their living room.

It was completely gone.

"What the…?"

"I was trying to tell you," Petunia said, eerily calm. "It went away after you tripped."

"Bloody…. It's like it was never here!"

There was a beat of silence.

"Do you think…. Do you think one of _them_ sent it?" he asked.

"I know they did," Petunia replied, raising her arm to point a shaky finger at the couch. There, in a brownish, off-white, dirty looking envelope matching the last one, was another letter from Dudley's kidnapper.

_Mr. and Mrs. Dursley_

_Living Room_

_4 Privet Drive_

_Little Whinging_

_Surrey_

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><p>'<em>Ah, my dear, dear Dursley family…<em>

_How long has it been since I last corresponded with you? It seems to have been not that long ago and yet much, much too long. To be a little more exact, it has been exactly one day, seven hours, and six minutes. From the moment you read my first letter to you, I expected much out of you both. For example, I expected the tears, the shock, and the anger. I am proud to say that I was even correct about you wanting to contact law enforcement, whether it be muggle or magical. I did not, however, expect you to heed my warning about that very issue – I fully expected to see some form of brute force show up at your home straight away. I'm very pleased with you for not calling them, and have rewarded you because of this. Thanks to your presence of mind, I've decided to let your disgusting son sleep in a room just big enough for him to actually lie down in! Before, I had intended to give him a cell just barely big enough to fit his huge ass in._

_Yes, as I've said, I expected much out of you, and at first, you did not disappoint. But, I expected quite a bit more. In the one day, hours, and eleven minutes since you discovered I was behind his abduction, I expected you two to do much more. I rather thought you would discuss my handwriting, compare it to that of those you might know. I expected you to compile a list of those who are against you, against your son, or against Harry. I figured you might even have an open, honest chat with each other about my light hints. Because, as stupid as you both are, I know you, Vernon, picked up on my allegations that your wife had a secret that may help you track me. _

_I see now that I have set my sights a little bit too high._

_Let me assure you, dear friends, that comparing my handwriting with others would have been clever, yet a waste of your time. You do not know me at all; we have not been in contact. A list of those against you would have been no doubt, cocky, rambling, and inane, as well as miles and miles long. As I have said (seeing as you lot don't seem to remember well…) you do not know me. I would not be anyone on that list, nor on the list of ones whom hate your whale of a son. And Mr. Potter does not know of me, either. No, no one can help you. I am a mystery of sorts; think of me as a warrior – this is my first mission on my own. One which, with the help of my trainers and father, I have selected to prove my abilities and show that I am ready to enter and end the ongoing war._

_A war which I must now assume you know nothing about._

_Talk to each other. May I suggest that you do so very soon? I gave Dudley the gift of a room because of your decision to not go to the police. But because of your stubbornness and idiocy regarding the situation, I have taken this privilege away from it – excuse me, from him. That is, if one can take away something which someone never had. He stands, currently half asleep, in a concrete cell with bars. There is no room to move. I confess, I had to twist a few appendages to make him fit. He's a bit larger than I had planned for, which is in and of itself a shock to me. I plan for, listen to, and see everything, Dursleys. To catch me off-guard is quite the accomplishment. _

_In the days that have passed, you've made no move to save your son. Hurry up, Dursley family. Time is ticking.'_

Once again, there was no signature other than the same small and crudely drawn picture that neither adult could decipher.

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><p>"You saw what it said, Pet!" Vernon exclaimed, but without much zest. "You have to tell me everything. No lies, no shame, no holding back. As much as I hate it, I have to know about your sister and their…their lot…and all of that freakishness."<p>

"Vernon… Believe me, I hate it as much as you do… but I also feel it's worth it to save Dudley. I just… I remember a lot more than I should, but I'm worried I don't remember anything important, anything to be of use."

"Well, I guess we won't know if we don't discuss it."

Petunia nodded in agreement but pursed her lips and remained silent.

"Pet," Vernon said softly, "I won't hold any of it against you. It's like the first letter said, you never embraced all that rubbish. It wasn't your fault you got stuck with a…a… a witch for a sister."

And it was perhaps him finally saying the word, acknowledging the secret world they lived right next door, in fact right down the hall from, that finally calmed Petunia enough to get started on the whole sordid affair.

"It started with a man called Voldemort…"

"This Lord Thingy the boy was talking about?"

"Yes, him. He was after power, control, for the longest time. Lily was so thrilled when she got her letter, and she always was happy after coming back from that place… but when we got older, she was scared, too. I overheard her telling our mum that Lord Voldemort wanted to destroy everyone who didn't meet his ideals, didn't live up to this image of a perfect race of wizards he had-"

"Like Hitler, you mean?"

"Precisely."

Vernon gulped nervously. He hadn't realized that the hidden world was like that, and had to stop himself from feeling a small stab of pity for them. He was a harsh man, a cruel man when it came to magic, but Vernon Dursley had a soul, and if there was one thing that brought him nightmares, it was the Holocaust. Petunia let out a shaky sigh - she felt much the same – and continued.

"He had something against Muggleborn witches and wizards," Petunia told him, and paused at seeing the confusion on his face. "Muggleborn, that is to say… well, Lily. Someone magic who was born to non-magical parents. Voldemort didn't like them, thought they were muddying up the gene pool and weakening everyone. In fact, I believe that was a term for what they called people like my sister: Mudblood. Apparently it was one of the most offensive things you could say.

He didn't like them and so he tried to kill them all. It started a war, Vernon, and my sister was at the forefront, with that no-good lout she married, James Potter. He was an auror, a magic cop, so to speak. Then, later, a prophecy was made that the _boy_ would be the one to stop Voldemort… Lily and Potter went into hiding. But he found them. He always finds who he wants… and he killed them both, tried to kill the boy, too, but it didn't work. Voldemort was gone, the boy lived, and that's how we got stuck with him.

Then, this last summer, after those dementors hurt Dudley… you remember what the boy told us? That Voldemort was back. I guess I knew then that things were pretty serious, but I told myself it wasn't my problem… he's nothing to me, nothing like Lily, and she's already gone. For all that she was, she was still my sister. All those times we avoided them, ignored the calls…she was still my sister, and even though I didn't care to see her, I stilled cared _for_ her.

And now he's back. And really, that's about all I can tell you."

Petunia finished with a small gasp, pale and sweating nervously despite the cool air in the house. Vernon opened his mouth - to speak, ask a question, or vomit, she didn't know – when there was another, albeit smaller, bang, and thankfully no smoke. There was no dirty envelope this time – just a small scrap of parchment bearing the words

_Really, Petunia? I thought we agreed that lying wouldn't benefit you… or your son._

Followed by the same symbol. Of course.

Petunia let out an indignant shriek and rushed to the windows, staring out to try and find the one who was watching her so closely. The street was completely empty; everyone's curtains were drawn. She then looked madly around the room, for what, she didn't know: a bug, a wiretap, a bloody house-elf. Something, anything, to explain who or what was keeping such close tabs on her that they could deliver the message the moment she stopped speaking.

Nothing.

Of course.

"So, there's more, then?" Vernon asked, taking the whole thing surprisingly well.

"Yes," Petunia admitted begrudgingly. "There is."

"Well… I suppose you should just get it out quick then?"

"Fine," she snapped, suddenly furious. "Lily went to Hogwarts and died fighting Voldemort. While she was doing all of this, I was in my own school, doing 'muggle' things. Because she and I were close, and they almost didn't accept me. Because I had to grovel, to beg, to go with her. And then they said yes, and I lost my nerve. Because when I got my acceptance letter to Hogwarts, I threw it away and told her that he denied me. That's what's going on."

She promptly passed out, and Vernon was too late to catch her.

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><p><strong>AN: maybe it's going a bit slow, but I want to build the tension. I promise there will be more action in the next chapter - I do believe the Dursleys will make a visit to Diagon Ally! Let me know if I should continue, please :)**

**Thanks for reading,**

**skittyninja**


	3. Welcome Home

**A/N: **Well, this is definitely bunches longer than the first two! :D As promised, the elder Dursleys make a journey to Diagon Alley. Fear not - this isn't the only alley chapter. Their trip will be continued in chapter four (if you want it to be!).  
>In response to certain reviews:<br>Silver45 is half right... ;)  
>Whiteling - I'll manage to make someone quiver before the end xD<br>And a huge **THANK YOU SO MUCH** to all of the reviewers.  
><strong>DISCLAIMER:<strong> Harry Potter and all related bits are not mine. The beginning of the chapter is taken from Sorcerer's Stone, and what you recognize is not mine.  
>Enjoy.<p>

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><p>Mr. Vernon J. Dursley of number four, Privet Drive, used to be able to proudly to say that he was perfectly normal, thank you very much, and that he was the last sort of person you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because he just didn't hold with such nonsense.<p>

Mr. Dursley was the director of a firm called Grunnings, which made drills. He was a vast, hefty man with hardly any visible neck, although he did have a very large mustache. He looked imposing and slow, but in reality was quite lithe and moved silently. Mrs. Petunia A. Dursley was petite and blonde and, when seen near her husband, seemed to have nearly twice the usual amount of neck, which those who disliked her said came in very useful 'as she spent so much of her time craning over garden fences, spying on the neighbors'. Never mind the fact that she did so only in order to try and catch who was behind the cruel rumours about her family.

The two Dursleys certainly made a strange couple, and to be quite honest, they both appeared rather unattractive when seen in close proximity to one another. Vernon dwarfed his tiny wife, and what muscle and grace he had paled in comparison to hers. Similarly, the immense size of her husband made Petunia seem scrawny, bony, and rather horsey. No one looking at them apart would believe them to be the same people; Vernon appeared to glide soundlessly and give an aura of someone who could protect you, while Petunia seemed blonde, elfin, and shy in the most endearing, feminine way. They were not nearly as socially oblivious as one might think, and they knew what was said about them. But in spite of all else that they might be, they loved one another and would not let this bother them.

They also had a rather large son called Dudley and in their opinion there was no finer boy anywhere. He possessed the best of both of them; Petunia's soft features, Vernon's strength, and the ability from both of them to let cruelty bounce off of his (admittedly rather bountiful) thick skin. They had always believed they were raising him well, and were rather proud of them; now, however, they could only hope he was strong enough to endure whatever may be happening to him, for they had not the slightest idea where he might be.

Yes, you might say that the Dursleys had everything they wanted. But they also currently had a secret, and their greatest fear was that somebody would discover it and cause their dear son excessive pain.

It was the day after the session in which Petunia had somewhat unwillingly admitted to her husband that, should she have chosen, she could have been a witch like her sister. The two of them were currently hovering near the entrance to The Leaky Cauldron, and therefore the entrance to Diagon Alley. Of course, terrified for their son, they would have been hovering in said area much sooner, if not for Petunia's unfortunate fainting spells that had plagued her on and off since. Having finally recovered and having put off the dreaded trip for as long as they deemed safely possible, the couple was now preparing to enter a world they often overjoyed in pretending did not exist.

"Pet, dear, are you quite sure this is the spot? After all, it _has_ been rather some time," Vernon whispered cautiously and nearly inaudibly into Petunia's left ear.

The entrance to the bar was old and dilapidated. The window frames were rotting away, and the glass they held was dark with what appeared to be centuries of grit and grime. Only the dark stones appeared to be still mostly intact; every other aspect of the bar, from the rusted sign to the molded door, looked as though it was just barely holding itself together. Petunia could just vaguely make out a sign on the front stating that the building was condemned, but it was faint, as if not really there. She found out that when she thought of where she was headed, she could not see the sign as well.

Vernon, as it turned out, could see the sign no matter what, and informed her that half the roof was missing and that the old bar was badly charred. Petunia glanced up; the roof was rotted, yes, but intact, and she could make out no sign of a fire in the ancient building. There was no arguing that it was ancient and falling apart; it should already be a pile of dirt. But was Vernon perhaps right? Was she sp desperate to believe that there was a way in, a way to save her dear Dudley, that she was hallucinating? Was she in the wrong spot? Or worse, perhaps… had Dudley died or been kidnapped, leading her to insanity? She began to doubt herself more than she ever had before in her life, and she watched as the area around the building darkened. She was crazy. She looked up – when had the roof fallen in? Lily would –

Lily. Her sister, who was dead by the hands of a wizard. Whom she had loved and who had loved her. Petunia knew, in that moment, that's she was not losing her fragile grasp on reality. She had known of this world for years. It was real, Lily was real. Dudley and the threat, all real. And then it came to her - there was only one thing that could be keeping it together: magic.

"I'm sure," she whispered back, though not nearly so overly cautious. She was a mite surprised that she had sounded so calm and confident in her assessment.

With that statement, lacking of any doubt, the building solidified in her mind. Suddenly, it became fifty years younger; it was still old, still rather dirty, but no longer looked as though it might collapse if one breathed on it. Petunia finally made sense of their different views - of course, as a full on Muggle, Vernon was incapable of seeing the entrance to this small branch of the Wizarding World. But Lily Evans had told her sister about the place some years ago, and despite the feud that came later, Petunia had never forgotten. She could see clearly what must be done, and she also remembered that without a wand, she would be just as useful as her husband in accessing the area. No, it was time to swallow her pride and ask one of…them.

Petunia approached a rather old and dusty looking man at the bar, whom was wiping the counter with a rag. Suspiciously enough, the rag seemed dry as a bone and rather filthy, while the counter itself gleamed, pristine, after each pass. Petunia was fairly sure that the rag was hiding a wand. She walked boldly up to the man, managing to hide the slight tremors in her knees; Vernon meekly followed behind her.

"Excuse me, sir…" she began.

"Eh?" the barman glanced up and gave her a once over, barely sparing a glance at the man behind her. "Name's Tom, I'm the barman here at The Leaky Cauldron. How can I be helping you today, mum?"

"I'm looking to enter…ah..Diagon Alley," she told him, lowering her voice a bit at the end.

Tom glared at her suspiciously for a moment, his eyes darting back and forth between her and Vernon. "And why might you be needing assistance? Folks your age normally just go on through, and you sure don't look too foreign…"

"Our niece attends Hogwarts," Petunia began. She and Vernon both agreed to stay as anonymous as possible, and mentioning a nephew at Hogwarts staying with them for any reason was a danger. "She's been staying with us for the past few months as her parents work through a divorce. Thing is, we're Muggles, and not too well versed in your world… Anyway, she seems to have forgotten quite a few items for school—"

"—figures, shouldn't have let her go off shopping with her silly little friends and no adults," Vernon butted in on cue, making sure to seem gruff but fondly remembering the incident.

Petunia smiled at him and hoped like hell she looked surer of this than she felt. "Yes, well, can you blame her for wanting to get away from adults for a while, Wendell? But anyway, she sent us a letter asking for us to pick some things up for her, and so we were hoping you could help us."

Tom considered the two of them for a moment, and Vernon vaguely noted that he bunched the rag up, probably gripping that stick of his tighter. The man was becoming a bit too interested; he was suspicious of their story. If they were caught, he would likely use that stick on them and do only God knew what. Vernon tried not to look like he was about to donate liquid to the floor for mopping. He sensed rather than saw Petunia stiffen and knew that she saw what was under the rag. Her smile began to falter ever so slightly.

Tom coughed lightly before saying "never did like hearin' about a kid's family having troubles… Course, I'm sure she told you she could get her supplies in Hogsmeade herself?"

"Oh?" Petunia raised her eyebrows in surprise. _'Think, you bloody idiot! Think! The boy mentioned Hogsmeade, mentioned he wanted to go…but we said no. He blew up Marge! Poor Dudley, he was just a baby at the time, just thirteen…ah, wait, that's it!'_

"I'd hope not," Petunia said, acting mildly surprised and slightly put out. "Ben always told me that there was an age limit! She's only just a second year, I was under the impression she didn't get to go yet. I have to say, I won't be too happy with her sending us all this way for nothing.."

"Ben, eh?"

"My older brother."

"Ah, Muggleborn, I assume."

Vernon suddenly stepped in front of Petunia and visibly bristled. "Now you listen here, I may not know as much as you about what's going on in my niece's world, but I _do_ understand that you lot have some cockamamie idea that parentage makes my family lower class! And if you're insinuating what you seem to be, I certainly have no problem with shoving that rag—"

"Now, now, I'm certainly no blood purist, Wendell!" Tom said quickly. "I was just going on the assumption that your brother in law must be a Muggleborn wizard, as it's much more common than your wife being a Squib born to a magical family."

"Very well, then…" Vernon trailed off, giving the barman a calmer but still slightly ruffled stare.

"And anyway, he's right, she can't go until her third year… Hate to cause the poor thing trouble… Ah…Well then, things being what they are, I'm sure I can get you in. Just a mo', let me get Crystal to watch the counter…" Tom offered. "OI, CRYSTAL!"

Crystal, apparently the female version of Dudley, if Dudley ever ate his father, and then dyed his hair bright green, ambled up to the bar, flashing a lazy grin. She was in her twenties and yet still clearly appeared to be in the midst of teenage rebellion. Her shirt, black and red, advertised for "Evisceration Nation", and Petunia hoped it was just some strange wizarding band. If not, she did not want to meet this girl again.

"What the hell do you want, you bloody wanker?" Crystal teased, brown eyes flashing mischievously as she pulled out a rag of her own which Vernon definitely noticed. _'Another freak, another wand… __**why**__ did the scary one have to be armed, as well?'_

"A racing broom, more rain, a rare African _Mimbulus Mimbiltonia Fernucula _for my kitchen table_, _world peace, dress robes that don't strangle me…." Tom muttered, faking a glare at her that did not quite hide his fondness.

"All right, all right!" She said, laughing. "I'll watch the pub for you. Now go away and shut up, old man!" As she smiled at their retreating forms, Petunia could have sworn the large girl shrank a bit and her hair lightened from an emerald to a spring green. Were her eyes blue under all that gaudy make-up? Odd, she could have sworn they were brown.

* * *

><p>Diagon Alley was, quite possibly, the eighth wonder of the world. Petunia couldn't recall if she had ever been before; she likely had not, because her fight with Lily had begun long before the school shopping, and she was certain she would have remembered a place like this. Yes, if Petunia had come here, she would have definitely rescinded her decision to not attend Hogwarts.<p>

It was nearly too much to take in. Right to her left was a sign advertising "Madam Malkin's Robes for all Occasions". Across from that she saw Flourish & Blotts, a pretentiously lettered sign that led her to believe she might find books there. There were also signs for an apothecary, a pet shop, ice cream, antiques… the list went on and on. Every building positively glowed with color and joy. There were children running around, dragging their parents after them and squealing with joy. Down from the clothing store, she saw a large crowd of young boys and their fathers huddled around a window – they appeared to be admiring a broom of some sort. Vernon was unwittingly smiling as he looked around while standing next to her.

The air smelled of cotton candy, fruit pies, firewood, and the smoke that comes from a firework. All in all, it was the best thing she had ever smelled, and by the way Vernon kept taking in deep breaths and sighing contentedly, she was willing to bet that he'd agree with her. A feeling was building within Petunia, a strong feeling she couldn't quite put a name on, as she wasn't sure she had ever felt anything like this before. Tom prodded her arm gently and their group moved slightly to the left to allow a young couple and small blonde girl by; they appeared to be exiting. Petunia caught the look on the girl's face: pure joy and amazement. Her eyes, while not quite as vivid, were green enough to remind Petunia uncomfortably of Lily Evans.

"Mummy, when can we come back?" The little girl asked, now looking back with wide eyes. The mother, dark haired with gentle gray eyes, smiled and scooped her up gently, planting a large kiss on the top of her head. The burning sensation within Petunia grew brighter.

"Very soon, Primrose, sweetie. A few years, when you turn eleven, you'll get to come here all the time."

"Really?" Primrose was nearly squealing in joy. "It's so pretty, Mummy! Everything looks like colors and happy and giant candies and love!"

Her father chuckled slightly and slung an arm around his wife and child, who both nestled into him, subconsciously seeking his warmth and protection. As they passed through to The Leaky Cauldron, Petunia was just able to catch the end of their conversation.

"You realize she'll be dragging us here every other weekend now, Kat?" The husband asked, gently, trying his hardest not to sound overjoyed about it.

The woman laughed, and Primrose joined in just because she could; it was the best sound Petunia had ever heard. "Don't I know it, Pete. Don't I know it."

Petunia glanced over at Vernon and saw that he, too, was staring at the couple with a warm smile on his face. Little Primrose had said it perfectly, if perhaps not in a very sophisticated manner: Diagon Alley was amazing, and looked like colors and happy and love. It was heaven on earth to the little girl who had just experienced it for the first time, just as it was to the Dursleys, despite their hatred of the magical world. One could not simply experience this and remain as hard-hearted afterward…

But it was more than that for Petunia; from the moment she walked in, she had felt something, but not known what it was. She had mistaken it at first as disgust, then fear, then confusion. But none of those emotions gave her a warm, burning, melancholy feeling deep within her chest.

"So," Tom said, pulling Petunia out of her thoughts, "that'll be the bank down that way, you can transfer some of your pounds into Galleons and the like. Madame Malkin's is down to the left, apothecary is across from Ollivanders, and the chaps in the blue robes with a silver star on the left breast can help you find your way if you get lost. So good luck to you!"

"Thank you," Petunia said gratefully, glancing around the magical world around her. Vernon simply stuttered a small bit; he was still entranced with the color, the smell, the overall atmosphere of the alley. He glanced back only at the sound of bricks scraping together – the wall between the magical and Muggle world was closing between them and the barman.

"I hope you find what you are looking for," Tom said to them cheerily. It seemed that watching them watch the little girl and her family had dissolved the last of his mistrust.

"I think I already have," Petunia whispered, only half aware of what she was saying. The sensation within her reached its peak, and finally she recognized it: a feeling of joy, of welcome, of finally coming home after a long day. A loving caress from the very place she was meant to be. It was a feeling of belonging to something, completely and freely, without any reservations. It was as if the alley and everyone in it was reaching out to envelope her in a hug and say "welcome home, dear."

"Yes, I do, too," the barman replied with a knowing smile as the last few bricks concealed him from view.

* * *

><p>There was a pause; for a long moment, Petunia and Vernon simply wandered forward with slow (yet not unsure) steps, drinking in the alley with any and all senses. The very air radiated magic; what they once and feared and hated held them no ill will – it was glad Petunia was back, and glad that the man she had chosen to love was behind her wholeheartedly.<p>

After several minutes of wandering aimlessly and dodging the large but cheery groups of shoppers, the Dursleys stopped off to the side of a building and took a good long look at one another.

"Bloody hell," Petunia said as she let out a shaky breath. "I didn't think we'd make it through that. Vernon, you were brilliant!"

"Not at all," he told her, in awe of both Diagon Alley and his small wife. "Not nearly so much as you were. But really, dear? 'Wendell'? Ugh…"

"Sorry," she replied, trying to seem contrite. "I admit, I forgot to think of names beforehand, and it just flowed well."

"Whatever you say, Prudence, dear."

"Now that's just cruel," she growled playfully. "Come on, on to the bank."

They walked down the alley hand in hand, trying with all of their might to seem more confident than they really were; once they passed the doors of the bank, noting that the sign said "Gringotts", the both let out deep breaths and seemed to deflate a bit. At least the bank was relatively empty and they no longer had to pretend they were someone else.

Well, empty save some rather squashed, angry, unattractive looking little creatures which Petunia recalled were goblins, which she whispered to Vernon nervously as they approached the desk.

"How may I…help you?" One asked her, speaking oddly.

"I, erm… I..that is to say, we…we need to convert some Muggle money…"

"Ah, very…well. How. Much?"

Vernon simply handed over a rather large envelope filled to bursting point.

"I…see? That's…ten thousand. Galleons. Then. Here, you are?"

"Er…thank you, ah…" Petunia snuck a quick glance at the nameplate on his desk. "Markwole."

"You're."

Vernon coughed uncomfortably and looked like he was about to pose a question to his wife, but she silenced him with a sharp look and a sharped jab from her elbow.

"Welcome!" Markwole half-shouted suddenly. "Have-a-nice!...day?"

Petunia gathered up the sack of gold coins, realizing belatedly that they seemed to have gotten quite a lot of money, and walked out the front doors after steeling herself once more. Vernon dutifully followed after her, rubbing his left arm and looking a bit petulant.

Once a safe distance from the bank and away from any lingering magical folk, he dared ask her, "what the hell was that about? I didn't know they couldn't speak properly! I could hardly follow a thing that he…it? She? ….I could hardly follow a thing that the teller said!"

"Well, I only ever heard about them once before, when that nasty boy was telling my sister about them, and he never mentioned that they spoke like that! But no matter, I suppose. We got what we came for, and at least that one didn't ask too many questions like the barman!"

"True, true. So, ah…" at this, Vernon looked distinctly uncomfortable, if it were even possible for him to look more uncomfortable than he had since this whole horrid business had started. "What are we to do next, then?"

"Well… to do anything really, I need… well," she paused and looked him nervously. "I need a wand, Vernon, like the….like the boy has."

Vernon blinked in surprise, paled, and thought it over for a moment.

"Bloody hell."

* * *

><p>"Ollivanders… Makers of fine wands since 382…B.C.?" Vernon questioned his wife almost desperately as they stood outside the shop.<p>

"Oh," Petunia clearly hadn't been expecting that at all. "I suppose… I suppose this has been going on for a while then. Shall we just get it done with, do you think?"

"Might as well… ruddy, bloody…" Vernon's mumbling trailed off as they walked inside and a little bell tinkled somewhere, alerting the owner of their presence.

"Well, hello," a voice came suddenly from right behind the couple, causing them to jump and stumble. Its owner was a wizened old man, shorter than both of them, with strange reflective glasses and gleaming eyes. "I am Mr. Ollivander. And you are Wendell and Prudence Olivier. And you're here to pick up supplies for your niece, daughter to your brother. Who is currently undergoing a divorce."

Petunia Dursley was a very strong woman. She had sat by and watched as her sister turned small animals into teapots. She watched that Snape boy burn flies with his wand. She had seen Vernon beat her nephew within an inch of his life, seen her son kill millions of children in his games, and watched as a small little girl lay dying on the side of the road after her drunken brother crashed into Petunia's car. She had been cheated on, stood up, slapped, and betrayed. She had seen and experienced many things in life; she had even received a letter giving excruciating detail about her sister and her brother-in-law being captured and tortured by means both Muggle and magical by the dark wizard who eventually killed them both. But until this moment, Petunia felt she hadn't known true shock and disbelief.

"How did you-"

"But," Ollivander continued as if he had not noticed her plight or heard her begin to speak. "That does not explain why you are here, in my wand shop, with the intent to purchase a wand when your twelve-year-old niece already has one."

"What I am looking for," Petunia said carefully, purposefully not looking over at her husband, "is a magical wand for myself. You might say that I'm not from the area. I would like to keep this private – I don't know who told you all of those things, but I do know that you don't believe them one bit."

"That, I do not, fair lady." Ollivander said, looking her over without the least bit of suspicion. "You aren't from here, you aren't who you say, and you need a wand. _Just_ you. Not him."

"No," she said softly. "Not him."

"Way I see it, I let you look, one picks you, you pay and leave… no questions asked. I can certainly respect the need for privacy. One has to, when one's been around as long as I have."

"As long as— You...you mean," Vernon stuttered, turning lightly pink when Ollivanders head suddenly whipped around and he unwillingly met the man's creepy stare. "You mean to say that you're the one on the sign out there, the _same_ one?"

"That I am," Ollivander told him softly. "Shall we then?"

Petunia took the dusty wooden box that he handed to her and glanced at it with trepidation. "And I just pick it up, that's all?"

"Aye. You'll know when it's right, you can always tell when one picks you."

"All right…"

And Petunia lifted the first wand out of the box, stroking it gently with her free hand. It was nice, she supposed. Dark red wood and a gleaming polish. It felt comfortable in her hand, which she had not expected. But then, she had also not expected to be in Diagon Alley holding a stick. Ollivander suddenly grabbed it away from her, causing her to startle.

"No, no, no. This one's no good! Here!" He thrust another box at her, already open, and she picked up the dusty and slightly crooked looking wand.

Nothing.

And so it continued for another two boxes, until she lifted a ramrod straight wand with a gray base out of its box and promptly dropped in in surprise, screaming as a large stream of water was issued from the tip, turning to ice as it fell.

"Almost," Ollivander said. "But not quite. Wait here, I need one from the back."

The strange old wizard ambled away, and Petunia turned towards Vernon, terrified to see the look on his face from witnessing his first concrete evidence that his wife was, in fact, a witch. She was very surprised then, to see him smiling reassuringly at her as he moved in for a large hug.

"I'm… I'm proud." He told her softly. "Sounds as if I've gone mad, I'm sure. But I am. Proud of you, I mean. And hell, a little barmy, too."

"I thought you'd be angry, or…or..disgusted with me."

"I couldn't, Pet! Not after what we saw earlier, not after seeing the look on your face. We've been married twenty years and I've not once seen you look that happy, look like you felt that safe. How could I hate that? And then I felt it, too. I felt okay here, I felt like as long as I was with you, I belonged. I always knew I belonged by your side, of course, but I didn't think that'd apply here. Half figured I'd be kicked out the door the second I walked in, actually. Thought they'd see what I was. But I just felt..reassured."

"I'm glad," Petunia told him, tearing up a bit. "I hate to say it, in a way, but… I regretted lying to Lily more than I ever had in my life. When we walked in, I felt all of what you described. I felt… like I was home. I felt like I was seeing her again after all of this time."

"Maybe you were," he told her seriously. "One thing I've learned since this whole bloody mess started: it's all possible. And now that we're here, doing this, I feel like we have a chance to save him."

"Vernon, I—"

"Here it is!" Ollivander exclaimed as he walked back into the front room He was carrying a single box, dustier than any of the others, slightly squashed as though it had been at the bottom of a very large, very heavy pile. He opened it up and a single butterfly flew out. He chuckled and blew the dust off of the wand inside.

Petunia took the box uncertainly, glancing in at what she was sure would be a filthy mess. But the wand was polished and gleaming like those before it had been. She lifted it up in her right hand and felt the hairs on the back of her neck and arms raise; it was suddenly very warm in the shop, and she thought she smelled vanilla. She admired the wand in her hand, thinking it was prettier than the prior ones. She ran one finger up and down the length of it, tapped the tip, inspected the base. It was then that she realized the discarded wand boxes from before were floating around her in a spiral.

"I think we have it then," Ollivander said with a smile. "Maple and unicorn hair, eleven inches, flexible. That'll be seven galleons."

"Erm… how do I…?" Petunia asked, slightly awed as the boxes continued to float around her.

"Concentrate on them falling," he told her.

She did, but instead of falling roughly to the floor of the shop, the floated, nearly danced, over to the counter and stacked themselves.

"Impressive," he told her.

"I… I suppose so?" Petunia couldn't help but smile slightly as she walked toward the register. "Seven…erm? What, now?"

"Galleons," he told her. "That'll be the big, gold ones."

"Right…"

Petunia paid him, Vernon thanked him, and the couple headed for the door. Ollivander walked them to it, saying that it was his pleasure, really, and to come again if they ever needed to. Petunia stopped, ignoring that Vernon was holding the door open for her like a perfect gentleman, and took a long look at Ollivander.

"You said earlier that we would know when I had the right one," she stated cautiously. "You said 'you can always tell when one picks you'. What did you mean?"

Ollivander smiled at her and tilted his head; the sun streaming in through the open door caught his glasses and the lenses both reflected, temporarily blinding Petunia as she edged toward the door.

"It's quite simple, really," the shop owner said, advancing so that Petunia had to follow Vernon out. "The wand chooses the witch or wizard. Not the other way around. It knows who it's best matched to."

He grasped the door handle and began to shut it behind them; they both turned to wish him a good day, and before the door covered the last half of his face, he said, "A lot of things work out like that here. I wish you the best of luck, Petunia Dursley."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **And so, there you have it! It felt a lot longer when I was writing and editing it, so I'm sorry if it sort of fell short of expectations... As you can see, there was no note from the mysterious kidnapper here... don't worry, he or she will be back soon, and boy are they PISSED OFF about something! But I felt that, at least this once, the Dursleys deserved to enjoy themselves. I hope you liked the little girl and her parents, as well as the scene where Petunia feels like she's home! Points to anyone who knows what I was alluding to with the family... :)  
>More soon, you guys, and thanks so much for sticking with me.<p>

Lots of love,  
>~skittynina<p> 


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